Sweet Dreams and Sweeter NotDreams
by SemperFiNeverForget051909
Summary: There's a reason why she didn't kill him when they woke up the next morning.// He doesn't wake up because of her nightmares. She wakes up feeling in one of his movies. They wake up realizing this is better than their dreams. JetLag TIVA goodness.


**AN: Another story tagged to Jet Lag, inspired by Tony's "You looked comfy enough" comment to Ziva. Any of you think Tony watched Ziva sleep?**

**Disclaimers: This is only my take on what happened in the bed room. Not smutty. I don't think they're ready for that--or maybe they are, thinking that this is the world of television--and besides, I don't know how to write good smut. Oh yeah. Before I forget, I don't own NCIS.**

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**_"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."_**

**_-Dr. Seuss_**

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_*phoof*_

Arrive in Paris. Check.

Get the luggages. Check.

Hail cab, get to the hotel. Check.

Room reservations. Check—oops.

There is no way they were going to share a room. It's just wrong. Too much danger. Too much temptation. Wait—

Temptation? Isn't this what they had wanted from the beginning? To be tempted but to finally have the chance to fully acknowledge it?

If the circumstances were different, then maybe, just maybe, they would give in and satisfy their cravings. Or what used to be their cravings, rather.

Those were the thoughts that occupied Tony and Ziva's heads the moment they stepped into the hallway of the floor where there room is located.

When they opened the door, as if the room wasn't enough. She cursed the front desk people for this. He cursed himself for having to be a warm-blooded man who doesn't have the guts.

And there was no couch.

It's either one sleeps on the floor.

Or they share the bed and not breathe the whole evening.

Why not breathe?

Temptation.

They never thought that this day would come. They have talked about Paris.—_it was inevitable_— He's shared rooms with other agents, and yes, she had been frustrated about that—_They are sharing a room? Either they're sharing a room or they're not sharing a room. I don't see what is so exact or not exact about it.—_just because she won't get to be with—

What the hell is she thinking? What the hell is he thinking? _What the hell are they thinking?!_

So they decided. Argued. Flipped the coin. Who will sleep on the floor?

Because Tony has decided a few weeks before that he has to grow up, and Ziva has decided that there won't be any harm in sleeping _beside_ him, they agreed to sharing the bed.

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It wasn't scary like he thought. In fact, it's the most amazing thing ever. For once, there's something better than the thought of taking her over the edge and hearing her scream his name again and again until the world fell apart.

Sometime in the middle of the night, of his dreamless slumber, he slowly opened his eyes, confused as to what's happening, why the hell he could feel something weighing him down.

Somehow, Ziva managed to climb on him to straddle his waist and rest her head on his chest. She had her right cheek against his chest as her hands rested limply on his shoulders.

He looked at her for a moment and thought how adorable she is during her sleep. She looked peaceful, undisturbed.

He let a small smile across his face before planting a light kiss on her head and finally, but half-heartedly, closed his eyes to return to his dreams.

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She woke up with the first rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains. It was bright. She felt hazy. She felt like she was in one of Tony's movies. She felt like she was in a dream.

But when her vision became clear, she couldn't tell if dreams just blurred with reality.

She woke up in his arms.

No wonder she slept well.

Somalia. The nightmares. Saleem. They seemed so far away.

So is this how it feels like to be safe. To be protected.

To be loved.

She smiled as she laid back down and reveled on being cuddled by him.

He woke up a few mintues later, and saw her staring. She was still on top of him not wanting to move out of his embrace.

"I thought you'd break my arms when you wake up."

"It never crossed my mind."

"So it doesn't bother you? I was expecting we'd feel awkward after this."

"Do you feel awkward?" She asked, getting off him. He tightened his arms around her.

"I like it this way," seeing the teasing expression on her face, he clarified, "I mean, if it's okay with you?"

She held back a grin. "Of course it is."

He kissed her head again and let his lips linger there. She'd be lying if she said that she did not like it.

No words were said after he pulled away.

When the silence became unbearable, not because it was making them feel weird, but because something had to be said, she spoke.

"I didn't kill you because I'd like to wake up like this every day."

"Then I'd be more than happy to be your makeshift pillow." He replied with a smile.

And that's where they realize that any dream they had ever had was nothing compared to what they are and how they feel now.

_*phoof*_

**End.**

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**I just had to write something about Jetlag....their loaded comments and glances just....DAMN.**

**Please review!**


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